When I was a kid, a week was forever. A month was an eternity of eternities. A whole year, well, that was just something you’d read about in story books. I had all the time in the world. I got stuff done.

Now I feel as if time is mocking me. It seems like last week was five minutes ago, and just yesterday I was eating pie and opening Christmas presents. In some respects this new, high speed time vortex I’ve fallen into is useful; if I’m eagerly awaiting something, it tends to occur before I realize I’ve even been waiting. And yet, it has drawbacks as well: I’m getting older and fatter at an astonishing rate, and yet somehow I’m not making money any faster (which is a concept I can’t even begin to understand).

At this rate, my goal of being a billionaire by age 25 is going to be very, very difficult to reach.